Forgetten Memories
by suicide bomber
Summary: AU. Suffering from amnesia, abused by an adopted father, Mitsuki seeks alleviation by suicide. Her path eventually crosses, forcing her to choose between her past or present. Her fairytale unfolds with unexpected twists. edited 02.
1. Runaway

**Suicide Bomber:** Oh my goodness. I didn't know I took this long to update. I'm really sorry. Even had my hard-to-get-a-review-from cousin to give me one. Ehehehs. I re-wrote chapter one, half done on chapter two but my computer seriously got hanged and viruses are now spreading like wild fire. I'm using the advantage of my father's laptop to make this work. I sincerely appreciate every review good or bad, I don't bother so I hope you guys still continue reading. Don't lose faith on me! Haa...

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Fullmoon-wo sagashite.

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_Forgotten memories_

Chapter 1: Runaway

**Suicide Bomber**

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_My eyes opened with much pain and effort. A splitting headache conquered my mind and I felt my legs getting weak. I knew nothing of my state, where I was, or who I am. But a questioned struck me. Was I... dead? At that moment I could not think. I could not breathe when the thought of being lost from my loved ones shook me. Then again, I had already forgotten my loved ones. Did I love anyone? Did anyone love me? The headache grew worse. My sight was a blur, and as I stretched out in reach of something I didn't know was there, darkness capture me. Everything else was blocked from my vision and I felt I had forgotten something._

• • •

She sobbed and panted heavily, leaning against the wall for support. Her cries grew softer as she pressed her palms against her chest. She prayed for safety. Her wounds were enough for her to go insane. Mentally and physically, she could not tolerate the sufferings she was going through. She was at the tip of breaking senseless, the highest level of endurance. She opened her swollen eyes, red from all the weeping. She controlled herself, trying every means to stay unbroken. She did not wish to be weak; she did not want to be seen as a petite form of fragileness. Taking the slightest precautions as she dapped the cool liquid onto her arm, she winced in agony. Slowly and carefully, she washed the open wounds on her knees before applying some lotion. She knew that these bruises and cuts were not going to be hidden for long. Injuries after injuries, she could not hide them anymore. They were beyond curable. Her heart ached worse than ever, seeing her state of helplessness. She was known for being strong and defensive in school, the girl who never bow to weakness. But now, she was swallowing her pride, allowing herself to be beaten by her own –foster- father. She was useless under his care, hitting her like she was anything but humane. She was like a punch bag he could use every now and then. She wanted to die.

Mitsuki cried painfully, every tear she dropped burnt onto her skin. She had cried every night like this, without anyone's acknowledgement. She did not want anyone to notice either, but every time her foster father looked at her with that look in his eyes, she felt her eyes sting. It was a look of disgust. Still, whenever her teachers called her name, she would feel a sense of belonging. For they say a name is represented by the parents' love. Though she was fully aware that he was not her biological father, she treasured the fact that her foster father actually had the heart to adopt her. She would be at orphanages being bullied, neglected or depressed if he had not taken her in. Of course, sometimes she wondered if living in orphanages would be more fortunate. Mitsuki did not want to think about that. She knew she was lucky, but at the age of fifteen, she was still unsure of herself. She was always thinking, diving deeper into the pools of complicated reasoning. Her thoughts often left questions unanswered, leaving her confused and lost. She held her breath; calming herself and trying to get at least some sleep for the night. Was the pain unbearable? Did it hurt as bad as it looked? She cried again. Seriously, she thought she would be brave enough to stop sobbing. She scolded herself for not being strong, for not being able to control her stubborn tears.

"Why... why... why?" She muttered, her voice shaky. "What have I done to except this fate?"

A short breeze blew passed her windows, a silent answer from the wind. Her question once again left hanging without a proper answer. No one cared. No one bothered. Alone. It was how she always thought. She was deeply hurt and trapped in a bubble. A bubble that may look hard on the surface, but it can be easily burst with one slight touch. Mitsuki laughed bitterly, finding humor in her own brittleness. Smiling solemnly, she closed her first-aid kit box and placed it gently into her drawer. She slowly advanced towards her futon, feeling tired and drained. Tugging in the covers, she closed her puffy eyes with much difficulty. The waterworks seemed to be spoilt tonight, for she felt moisture rising to her eyelids. Sniffing quietly, she drifted off to darkness. Hurtful as it was, she needed as much sleep as she could get, because tomorrow would be another tiresome day.

• • •

**Suicide Bomber:** updated, and hopefully, improved. I'm working on my language and emotions... I hope I did a better job this time. Really like to write so I hope I'm always advancing... Sorry for the long wait, please don't lose hope in my fiction!

I'm okay with critics but I hate rude people. Everyone is untitled to their options, including me, so respect my decisions. Thanks.


	2. Love is not needed

**Suicide Bomber:** FINALLY. Yes, this must be what you're thinking now. I'm editing the grammatical errors that are present in my current fictions, and I hope it wouldn't bore you if you were going to read it again. The story has changed a bit, as I've made a few changes here and there in the previous chapters. Please re-read them if you're lost or anything. I'm sorry for this inconvenience.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fullmoon-wo sagashite. I own the plot and it's FICTIONAL thank you.

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**Forgotten Memories**

Chapter 2: Love isn't needed

_Suicide Bomber_

°†°

_I awoke with mysteries surrounding me. Places I had never seen surfaced with utmost surprise. The people whom I once knew of were not around me. Then again, I did not recall of any that I knew of. I did not seem to remember whom I had trust, and whom I had not. But deep down in me, I felt the slightest hint of being miserable. Why? Why am I feeling a tinge of sadness? Why are there tears in my eyes? My emotions were not of mine, but of someone I cannot pinpoint. It could be me, but a moment ago, I felt as if I had reincarnated or something, and my previous live was slowly draining from my memory. Either way, the feeling left as soon as it came and I was alert by the sounds of footsteps. My vision was still a blur when a woman clad in white poked needles in my arms. Soon, the world around me turned to darkness. I was left alone again, and suddenly, I had lost clue of whom I was._

• • •

Mitsuke's POV

_**Ring! Ring!**_

The abrupt ringing of the alarm clock broke my trance of slumber. I awoke, half still in my dreamland. My eyelids were unusually heavy this morning, and I wondered why. My thoughts ran to the sunlight that shone through the window curtains. I grinned for a while, knowing that it was a start of a fresh, brand new day. I looked beside me; the noisy alarm clock was turned off, screaming for someone who was already awake. I frowned, knowing that I was not going to be the only one roused from sleep by now. Sighing, I turned off the alarm and tried to get some shuteye again. I did not intend to start the day just yet and going back to the welcoming futon seemed too inviting for me. I flopped down the comfy mattress, resting my head onto the pillow lazily. The world around me started to close up, darkness slowly taking me. Till suddenly, the alarm beeped twice. Irritation got the better of me, for that instant I had truly forgotten that I set the alarm clock to be a multi-tasked, with extra alert for which day I awoke to. I had a bad habit of disregarding things. Then, a jolt of realization hit me, as the signal from the alarm stated that it was...

_Monday._

Instantly, I jumped up, eyes wide like saucers. I literally hopped out of bed and dashed towards the bathroom, tripping over the dirty cloth on the floor that I had forgotten to wash yesterday. Pain was a good reminder then, as I scolded myself inwardly. How much time have I wasted on daydreaming, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on my face? Have not learnt from my childish pleasure? Time wasted, is gone forever! I picked myself up hastily, and continue to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face in seconds, speed I did not know I was capable of. I opened my eyes and looked at my reflection on mirror. It did not occur to me that I was hideous, skin so pale and eyes so lifeless. I shrugged off the thought, my image was not important. Such a simple task like washing up could distract me. I was ashamed. I grabbed a towel and hurriedly undress myself, stepping into the shower. I turned up the heater, and soon, hot water ran down my hair and body, soaking me thoroughly. I scrubbed myself with soap and cleanse every inch of my body. Unexpectedly, I felt dirty and small, seeing the cuts and wounds on my body that refused to be washed away. A sudden thought flashed in my mind. I was not ready for school. I did not have the courage to face the people in there with these marks on my body. I had enough of pretending, lying to my teachers, my schoolmates and myself; that such sort was never to befall on me, but in actual fact, it did. I was torment by my stepfather's abuse.

I sat solemnly on the wet tiling, legs against my chest as I started sobbing again. Nothing could have helped me. I was running away, skipping classes or hiding at home. I had been avoiding the truth for the longest time. I wasn't like this. Though I knew that part of my memory was temporary erased, something in my heart still tells me I'm not like this. What had become of me? Why am I so helpless now?

Because there is no one I can trust. Leaving home was easier said than done. My tortuous father wouldn't let it go if he found me missing. I had a bad experience once, and it told me that I should not attempt, or even think about it again. Escaping, that's all I could do. Though it may seem crazy or stupid, but I really had not the heart to report my foster father. After all, he was the one who accepted me, gave me food, shelter, education... and scars. But that was for exchange of his kindness. I should know this from the start; everything has a price to pay. I still thanked him for that. Scolding meant concern, beating meant love. I hope the saying was only true, and the past years that Father did was out of love and concern for me. Seriously, I could not bring myself to hate him or blame him for his actions; something tells me inside that I should not either.

"Fortune favors the brave," I sighed, hoping I was strong and brave enough to receive such fortune.

I turned off the shower, took the towel, and dry myself. I wore my uniform smartly, my hair still wet from my bath. My bag was slung across my right shoulder, several other books in my arms. I inhaled thickly, and then stepped out of the room, ready for anything that would be come my way. Hopefully, able to overcome whatever obstacles I would soon to face.

• • •

"Ohayo," I greeted as I entered the kitchen, trying not to sound gloomy.

I did not want to reminisce yesterday's event and wishing that Father would not too. He eyed me carefully. His eyes were scanning from my hair to that state of my uniform and finally to my shoes. I froze, for I fear he would beat me again. He was never a morning person. There was an awkward silence and I shifted my position uncomfortably. I was going to be late for school if I did not leave sooner.

"How's the injury?" He murmured, turning back to the newspaper he was reading. His voice was so soft I could hardly hear, but I managed to make out the words he was trying to put across. I was overjoyed.

"I'm fine, Otou-san," I replied, trying to keep my happiness. Good thing does not last.

After a pause, he made a slight gesture, admitting my leave. I bid him goodbye but received no response. He did not even lift his head to see me, but I was contented. I left the house, for once, feeling really blessed. Perhaps, love was not the thing I needed at the moment. It was peace.

I smiled.

• • •

**Suicide Bomber:** I have no idea how immature my contents were in this fiction. While I was editing it, I was like; OMG. I was so ashamed of my bad writing skills. I wondered why I still had reviews. But thanks a lot! For all the feedbacks that I had received! I hope these longer chapters cleared up some misinterpretation. The third chapter is soon to be edited, and I hope I can get as fast as possible for the forth. I'm having a sudden adoration for writing. I don't know why.


	3. Far, far away

**Suicide Bomber:** I'm finally back. I was not able to upload my chapters till, well, now. A computer issue that I'm sure everyone has encountered before. As usual, RR please!

**Disclaimer**: Arina is the talented one.

**note**: as for the record, chapters 1 and 2 will be ready in the next 4 to 5 days. I promise Yun Hua -where ever you're HIDING... - that her birthday fiction will _soon_ be out maybe in December the twenty-something... -.-" Neways, lets us all say a BIG happy birthday to the _once_ Pinkish Hikari! **HAPPY _BELATED_ BIRTHDAY YOU BIG BABOON, YOU!!** Belated coz her bdae was in September... I noe im _way_ of base sumtimes

!#$&

**Forgotten Memories**

Chapter 3: Far, far away

_Suicide Bomber_

!#$ something every girl would want. Safety; something every woman would want to have. What about me? Why do I feel a loss of protection and safety? Am I too difficult to handle, too difficult to be protected? Who will fill my empty heart, free me from prison, this prison of hurt and woe? I trapped here in a forbidden castle, locked up in the deepest cell. Who will save me? Where is my prince charming? I always waiting... Waiting to learn all over again, if anyone is willing to teach...

"Mitsuki..."

_Get off, get off, get off... GET OFF!!!_ She screamed in her mind, covering her ears with her pitiful hands. If there was a time when you felt like hiding in that one particular corner and hear no voices, that was what she was feeling right now.

Have you ever felt like you had been haunted by some evil villain, who never seemed to give up even there was no chances of wining? She did. How about feeling so shiver-ish and scared till you could not feel your toes anymore? She did too. Those were what Mitsuki Horuda mental note to self that this is MY fic and I have yet to clarify things. was going through; a mental breakdown aka going fanatical aka asylum here I come.

"Mitsuki..."

She shut her eyes tightly, fingers digging into the skin behind her ears. She shook her head furiously, kicking wildly, aiming something that was not even there.

"I said _go away_!!" She screeched as tears of fear secretly ran down her cheeks.

Then, what it seemed to be eternity, the feeling went away.

Mitsuki opened her eyes, fearing the shadow would overwhelm her with its darkness. She hated to be left in the dark alone. All alone and afraid to fend her self, fend her self to be lured by venomous desires. "Go away..." she whispered. She did not stop crying. She brought her hands to the sight of her eyes, staring at her own blood that lingered on her fingertips.

"What are you doing!?"

Mitsuki's head shot up, eyes widened with pure shock. Her arms were aching and pained by the firm grip of her foster father's. She did not hear him entering her room; sometimes she wondered if her foster father knew martial arts, _qing gong_ to pacify.

"I...I...my ears was itchy, Father," Mitsuki spoke softly, stumbling on her words as she frowned.

He did not speak, but only release her arm and walked out of room before returning with a first-aid kit. Mitsuki kept quiet while her foster father applied cream onto the wound behind her ears. She bit her lips, trying her hardest not to show her sympatric state.

"Talk when you feel like it. Show when you don't need it."

"Hmm..." Mitsuki mumbled, embracing her foster father. The extra slashes could wait, but for now, she just felt like having a shoulder to lean on.

**_The lights were bright but their future could not tell the same. Fate could just make a wrong turn and land you in the wrong direction. This was called destiny. _**

**_Heavy footsteps ran across the hall, passing several wards before reaching their destination. Whispers and mumbles filled the hospital as the paramedics past the counter. Life and death could only be skin deep apart. Would the unfortunate survive this operation?_**

_"**This depends on how much you're willing to help. Money will do the talking." **_

_"**What! You're a doctor! Wha… You're supposed to save lives not save expenses!" **_

**_The doctor shrugged, "Cash is King, pay up or bye-bye!" _**

**_The man gritted his teeth in fury. Three lives were now in this beast's hands and he was just going to throw them away. _**

_"**Takesho, you should know what to do," The doctor pat his shoulder, then walked towards the operation room. **_

_"**Damn!" Takesho punched the solid wall, frustrated and confused. It was a choice between saving and sacrificing; a harsh decision would make him a sinner. The doctor knew very well of his financial background. He sat outside the operation room, thinking and asking for an answer, the right one. He was battling against himself in the inside, and on the outside, he had to fight against the fact of being a bankrupt. With the money I've left, it's only enough to save one person. Why? Why?! WHY!! Takesho ruffled his hair roughly, his face the colour of a tomato. **_

**_Hours later, the doctor appeared in front of the helpless man. _**

_"**What is your decision?"**_

_"**Save the kid."**_

_"**Always playing Mr. Nice Guy huh?"**_

**_The figure of a helpless man faded into the picture of rain and despair, as he left no sign of his shadow in the hospital. He walked away._**

**Suicide Bomber:** Changed the story plot! Mitsuki lost her memory yes, but she committed suicide because of depression, BUT she had amnesia before the suicide. Okay? Yah, I hope that will clarify things in the coming future...

Mitsuki's foster father ain't that bad so I did this chapter to show his concern for Mitsuki though he abuse her and vent his anger on her. I promise no more 'love and caring' father if you think this might affect the story line.

Why is Mitsuki seeing illusions? What was it that haunted her?

Who is Takesho? What connection has he with the story?

Please wait for my next update!

And a Merry Christmas to all of you who are reading this!!!!

RR!!!


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